


I'm Already There

by AngryPirateHusbands



Series: Let Me Guide You Through This Nightmare [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Developing Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9201614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryPirateHusbands/pseuds/AngryPirateHusbands
Summary: Missing scene from S3.1Silver miscalculates, and Flint pushes him away.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonmemory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmemory/gifts).



Flint found himself avoiding Silver over the course of the next few days. He was unsure if it had been a wise decision to share with Silver the tender subject of his nightmares. While he had only described to him the significance of Miranda, as well as the manner of her death, he had left out certain key pieces of information. Namely that they had not only known Lord Ashe in a past life, but had actually considered him a close friend and ally. Even so it was far more knowledge than anyone else, even Gates, had ever been privy to. He didn't trust Silver. Even after their illicit tryst had begun, he still didn't trust him. Only a daft idiot would. Especially since he was certain that he had been the one to sell the gold's location to Rackham and his crew, instead of the boatman as he had alleged. The piss-poor cook had always been quite the adept liar. Yet the pain and shock that soon followed him after the loss of his leg had taken its toll, and those small ticks that Flint had never noticed before had become apparent. The twitch of his mouth when he was being dishonest, the shift of his gaze. Of course, he never voiced his suspicions. It didn't matter now. The gold was in Rackham's possession, and even if he wanted to toss the lying thief overboard, he now had the inexplicable loyalty of the crew. What's more, even if he were to share with them the truth of what had happened to their sought-after prize, Silver's deception hardly held a candle to the myriad of atrocities he himself had committed.

Whether he liked it or not he was now stuck with the man. And in a flippant decision he had felt it necessary to share with Silver just what it was that caused him to jolt awake in a cold sweat night after night. It was not because he trusted him on any level. Rather, he hoped that meeting the man halfway would cause an end to his insistent prattle on the matter. So far that appeared to be the case. Silver had not mentioned Miranda or his nightmares since that night. Still, he avoided him nonetheless. Perhaps it was his wounded pride. It was not often that he allowed someone to see the man behind the mask, and a part of him loathed himself for permitting that glimpse of weakness.

As the days turned into weeks the nightmares began to abate. Unfortunately, there was little reprieve as they had swiftly given way to something else: Hallucinations. Visions of Miranda with that bleeding hole in her temple began to haunt him during his waking hours. It was unsettling to say the least. He began to wonder if he had finally begun to lose his grip on reality, whether it be from grief or a simple bout of madness.

Fortunately these dark visions were, at the very least, brief. They were also always roughly the same both in nature and in pattern. Miranda would appear out of the corner of his eye as if from nowhere, the gentle features of her face downcast in a sullen expression. Her skin was always deathly pale, the ashen appearance only strengthened by the plain dress she had worn the day of her death. Always that prominent wound was in her forehead. Always she tried to speak. Yet the movement of her lips resulted in nothing but silence, whether it be a whispered word or a desperate scream.

It wasn't long before Silver took notice of whatever disturbances were going on within his mind. That on occasion he was somewhere else, in that dark horrid place of solitude and despair. While Silver never mentioned or inquired what was going on, he seemed to just... Know. To understand on some level what it was that he was seeing, where his was when his eyes glassed over and it took an effort to capture his attention. When he came to Silver was never far away. He wore that same expressionless mask that he had taken up after the events of Charlestown. Yet that calm stare would persistent until Flint offered a curt nod or barked out an order to one of the men. Until he offered up some sign that he had come back to the stark embrace of reality, and that he was alright.

Eventually, it was not from a sudden bought of noise or Billy's prodding that he returned from his vivid hallucinations, but rather Silver's feather of a touch. Somehow, even the lightest contact from the man's hand was enough to tear him back to the world of color and sound, of life. Sometimes it was a hand resting against his shoulder, sometimes it was a gentle grip on his forearm. Occasionally, just the trace of Silver's fingertips against his own was enough to bring him back. How this was possible he wasn't quite sure. Even so, he couldn't say that he didn't appreciate the grounding effect the man seemed to have on him. It felt comforting to have an anchor, of sorts.

Before long Flint could almost claim to have forgotten about Silver's most recent betrayal. The man's apparent concern for his welfare had gradually began to ease them back into their previous routine. Into the one that consisted of brief trysts within the secluded corners of the galley and forecastle. The side glances that conveyed the desire for a quick tug or hasty blowjob. The lingering touches. Just as before, there was very little free time that they could manage to steal away together. Perhaps now more so than ever, given Silver's new role as the crew's quartermaster. Yet the recent adjustments to Silver's sleeping arrangements more than compensated for it. Now that he spent his nights sleeping on the window seat to aid in the recovery of his leg, there was always an opportunity to fuck. Soon it was if nothing had changed.

Yet one day the fragile sense of peace the two of them had been able to maintain came crashing down around them. Flint was resting on his bunk after a particularly dangerous raid the night before. Dooely had lost his footing, perhaps from a simple falter to his balance, but he had barked at Silver to replace him nonetheless. He had claimed his first female victim of the English colonies. There had been no true reason to kill her, but hearing her cries had been far too much for him to stomach. So he had snapped. And as she collapsed to the floor beside her husband with a bullet in her temple, he saw Miranda's form in her stead.

He felt sickened. He felt exhausted. Drained. Listless.  
_Lost._

A part of him wanted nothing more than to sink beneath the waves and never surface again. Yet Silver once again protruded on his thoughts with the telltale step-thunk-step of his approach. Almost immediately the man began spouting nonsense of replacing him among the ranks of the Vanguard. Of taking him out of danger. Of taking from him the only outlet he currently had for his rage and regret. And so it wasn't long before Flint moved from the small cot and pressed himself into his quartermaster's space. The man was practically pinned to the desk behind him as he forced him back. Silver needed to feel trapped, to experience the _fear_ necessary so that he would be reminded of his place.

"In my head, you are not welcome." Flint's warning tone sounded dangerous to his own ears. He could clearly see the way Silver's blue eyes seemed to widen, the gentle bob of his adams' apple as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. The faintest quiver of his mouth. The man's immediate silence was enough to assure the captain that he had made his point. Yet as he stepped back and moved to return to the mess of charts on his desk, Silver didn't leave. Instead, he made the mistake of opening that smart mouth of his and continuing to push the matter even further.

"You do realize that I'm already in your head?"

_A grave mistake._

Green eyes shifted upwards to gaze at the man before him. Despite the audacity of his words, Silver once again possessed the very model of a calm demeanor. Flint's jaw felt as though it was locking in place. "What?" he demanded with a clipped tone.

Silver merely shrugged as he pushed off from the desk he had been crowded back against not moments earlier. "As I said, I'm already in your head, Captain." Flint could practically hear the way his teeth ground together. Yet he let the man continue, if for nothing less than curiosity. "I have been since we first took the Spanish warship together. Don't pretend to tell me otherwise."

The captain shifted, his palms pressing against the charts as he watched Silver cross his arms almost lazily. "You think you know me so well?" he asked. "That I can be read as easily as any book?"

"Not exactly, no." Again, Silver wandered closer as he spoke. "Even so, at the moment I believe that I know you better than anyone else. You confided in me the root cause of your nightmares. In doing that, in sharing with me that weakness, I now know what comes to your mind when your form grows still with your gaze is held out over the water. I know that you see a part of Miranda in every one you kill."

"Stop."

"I am _allowed_ to feel concern for you, captain," Silver continued, his voice raising though he now stood beside him. "And I do, James. I feel deeply concerned by this toll Miranda's death has taken on you. I--"

"STOP," Flint all but shouted. His gaze was piercing as he glared at the man with teeth bared. Silver's jaw made an audible click as his mouth once again snapped shut. "Do not dare call me by that name," Flint warned with a slow shake of his head. "I made the mistake of permitting you to call me that but once in bed, but do not for a second forget your place. We are not friends. We are not allies. We are _certainly_ not lovers, and so you will address me as you should, and keep your unwarranted thoughts to yourself. Is that clear?" For a change Silver appeared to be at a complete loss for words. The man returned his stern expression, his eyes searching, only moving once Flint himself offered a slight shift in his stance. And even then, it was only his tongue reaching out to wet his lips. "Is that clear?" Flint repeated after a moment.

"Perfectly," Silver answered at last, " _Captain_." The step-thunk-step of his retreat was swiftly followed by the slamming of his cabin door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this turned out okay! :) Had to add more angst. BUT, there will more parts.


End file.
